Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
“Here you go, your Highness. I know it’s peasant food and not nearly as good as what you get in your fancy Court, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Actually, it’s a lot nicer than what I get in Court,” I say honestly. “At least, during a banquet.”
“What?” He frowns. “I thought that Royals and Nobles ate nothing but the best of the best.”
“Oh, our chefs do cook amazing dishes, but it’s not considered ladylike to eat at a banquet,” I explain. “All you’re allowed to have is broth—otherwise everyone thinks you’re a cow.”
“What?” he shakes his head. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
I shrug.
“It’s the way things are done in my Court. Mostly because the Head Healer tells everyone it’s a bad idea for ladies to become too ‘robust.’ Unfortunately, I didn’t take his advice.”
I take a bite of the crispy, toasted bread with a meaty chunk of sausage and hum with pleasure. This really is surprisingly good—and the wine is nice too, even if it isn’t some ancient vintage that’s been aging in the wine cellar for decades or centuries.
“So they want every woman in your kingdom to be skinny?” Valen asks, making a face as though I’ve said something distasteful.
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” I point out. “Skinny is beautiful.”
“Not where I’m from. We Drakes like a woman with some meat on her bones.” He gives me a look that makes my cheeks feel hot.
“You can’t be serious,” I protest. “Your people really feel that way?”
“Of course.” He gives me that look again. “Who wants to sleep with a skeleton? Besides, a woman with curves is just more beautiful.”
We lock eyes for a moment and I see that his are glowing. I have to look away because I feel so breathless and uncertain.
To cover my confusion, I take another drink of wine.
We eat in silence for a while, and I finish my sausage toast and we share the last of the wine. Then Valen leads me down to the small stream and we wash up. I rinse my mouth, and we refill the empty wine bottle with water.
We go back to the campsite, and I settle close to the fire—too close, because a spark flies into my hair.
“Watch out!” Valen exclaims. Leaning towards me, he catches the flame in his bare hand and smothers it quickly before it can set my hair alight. Then he drags me away from the fire. “Didn’t I tell you not to get too close? Your people aren’t fireproof like mine,” he growls.
“I was cold,” I protest.
“That’s easy to fix.” He puts an arm around me and pulls me close to his big body. Before I know it, I’m basically sitting in his lap with his broad chest against my back.
“Hey! I protest, wiggling against him to try and get free.
“Hold still, Princess,” he growls in my ear. “Or we’re both going to have a serious problem.”
As he speaks, I realize I can feel something hot and hard pressing against my bottom.
Oh my Goddess…what am I going to do now?
27
VALEN
My little Princess is an accident waiting to happen. I worry about her getting so close to the fire—she’s flammable, especially her long, golden-brown hair—in a way I’m not. Of course, if we were Bonded, she’d get my immunity to flame but we’re not.
And we won’t ever be, I remind myself. The woman sitting in my lap is my enemy—she’s declared that she will be my Mistress, and she has power over me because she wears the ring and I wear the collar.
But she seems so fragile, sitting in my lap. So easy to wound. I can’t help remembering how I felt when I walked into the Common Room and saw that bastard trying to drag her away while nobody did a Goddess-damned thing to stop him. When I saw that—saw his filthy hands on her and the look of fear on her face—a bright flame of possession flared to life in my heart—a feeling that he was touching someone who is mine.
And somehow, I haven’t quite gotten over that feeling yet.
I can tell that being close like this is making Irena uneasy…but it’s also making her hot. The warm feminine scent of her desire tickles my nose—it’s even stronger than the sour scent of the shirt she’s wearing. Goddess—that thing has got to go.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she demands, as I start pulling it off her.
“Taking this off you—it fucking stinks,” I growl.
“But I’m cold!” she protests. But I don’t think that’s the only reason she wants to hold onto the shirt. When I peel it off her and toss it to one side, I can see her full breasts, barely contained by the thin material of her white shift. The tight points of her nipples poke at the fabric, making my cock surge.